


Do Androids Dream...

by havoc_writes



Category: Halo
Genre: F/M, Halo: Combat Evolved, Platonic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:27:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havoc_writes/pseuds/havoc_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I guess you could say I dream about you"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Androids Dream...

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try to use John's language when talking about Cortana (i.e "it", "device" ,etc. going to "her") to show his gradual change in respect for her. I wanted it to be set somewhere before meeting the Arbiter. Haven't tried writing anything Halo so if anything seems non-canon then let me know. I'd love to talk about Halo!

His ammo pack hit the ground with a thud far too loud for his liking. He listened as the metallic echoes travelled around the room he was in and down the broken, shattered corridor until it escaped into the night air. It was quiet. _Too quiet_.

     Even when the gunfire stopped, the sound of a burning world almost always prevailed. The cracking and hissing of buildings finally giving way to the molten plasma heat was a constant soundtrack. The distant tac-tac-tac-tac of AA gun fire could almost be a soothing lullaby. But tonight was different on the small outer world. The simple task of cleaning out a small horde of jackals that had turned the planet into their scavenge pile was menial, almost laughable for a Spartan-II like himself. Maybe there was something more to it; brass would come in over comms any day now to drop the dramatic truth of this breeze through op. But he didn’t bother to think about it. Orders were orders, even if they were focused on a mainly uninhabited world somehow untouched by the Covenant on the far fringes of space.

     After unpacking more of his gear and cleaning half of it and safely and pointedly stowed it away he lastly turned to his rifle. He chose his spot for a reason, the ruins of what had probably been an Innie warehouse made for a perfect snipers nest. He rested the gun on the ground, the tip of the barrel just reaching the edge of the shelter. After the days bloodbath he had no reason to suspect any sort of ambush from the Kig-Yar unless they had gained the power of necromancy between the time the last body fell with its head still twitching around the magnum bullet and to where he sat now.

     With a grunt he released his helmet, letting his natural eyes peer out into the darkness without the aid of the suit and the comfort of the protective HUD. When he became satisfied once more with his surroundings he let himself fall back to recline, aiming to get at least a nap before heading out and taking care of the rest of the jackal infestation.

“That star right there you’re looking at? That’s MTE-893.”

His AI companion sparked to life, choosing to create a physical appearance to go alongside her voice. She made herself to appear to sit cross-legged on the chestpiece of his armor, her digital arm pointing to the sky.

     While he wasn’t actually looking at any of the far out bodies light he decided to let himself be humored by his “companion”. After allegedly “choosing him” from all the other Spartan-II’s his artificial guide rarely went a moment without having something to say. And boy, he thought, does it usually have something to say.

     But she wasn’t standing firm with her hand on her hip like she usually would when appearing after a battle to point out all the times “we could’ve avoided that explosion if you had _listened_ to me!”, but instead looked almost at ease.

“And that one right there…” she shifted her arm despite him not truly knowing where she was pointing. Her eyes fell from the sky down upon him.

“Is actually an outer-colony planet like this one. Eridanus-II.”

      _It_ had done it on purpose, he knew. The AI had all possible information on him. All possible information in the world perhaps. He was born on Eridanus, before he had been reborn in the Orion Project. Did it want a rise out of him? Was it testing vitals? A study on genuine human emotion maybe?

     When he didn’t respond she stood, stretching. Or rather, pretending to stretch. His mind corrected him. Why does it do that? To make me feel more comfortable?

“Those three stars make up the belt of an ancient warrior,” she continued her drabble on the stars. He looked up this time, trying to see what she explained.

“I don’t see it,” he admitted.

     Cortana flashed a cheeky grin in his direction at that. She pointed at two other stars.

“And thoooose are his two dogs.” She dragged her syllables out, toying with him. He let himself take in the stars for once. With no human light or giant frigates or double moons to block out the view, it was a fairly good view. Nice enough for someone who has practically lived in the stars and looked out windows for most of his life to see nothing but.

“I’m going to sleep. Keep a look out. Wake me if something happens,” he said. The dark blanket of sky was certainly making him drowsy, to give it any credit at all. He had just begun to dose off to the gentle hum of the wild insects and the ocassional whistle of wind to pass through his shelter when his AI piped up again. She was quieter this time, her voice almost a whisper.

“What do you dream about?” she asked him.

For a second he almost thought he was dreaming. Aside from the occasional sass and joke Cortana had proved to be a fully rational AI, never giving anything that wasn’t fact, never asking for anything more. So this question was almost absurd for her, hell, for any AI to ask. He forced his eyes open. Cortana was still standing, one hand resting against her face as she continued to stargaze, the other limply hugging her side. It was off putting, to see his fierce AI have such a strange stance…to have almost a human stance.

     He had grown used to the grief he had to wade through within the first few missions. Rescue ops where mothers begged for him to take children and families. The hollowed, empty stare of those who had managed to barely escape a glassing as they sat in shock as what had once been everything they had known is turned into molten rock and ash and loss. He had seen in the soldiers, silently, when they thought they were alone on the deck or washing up for the night.That look into the mirror that was just a second too long to be normal. The shame that would put fire into their cheeks. When they sit alone where they had once sat with comrades; brothers. There was nothing they could do, any of them, to save the masses of people that were being systematically destroyed. There was nothing they could do as they were ordered to try to save them and walked back onto ship bloodied and tired with the last screams of a bunkmate or a friend still in their ears.

     So to see this machine take on a pose he had seen so often was shocking to him, and if he didn’t refuse to admit it his heart felt the first twinge of fear. She moved suddenly, to face him, her digital face contorted in emotion

. “I-I’m sorry. That was too personal and out of lines. I…I’ll let you rest. You need it,” she tried finishing up her plea with a bit of humor.

     He closed his eyes again, frustrated. He had no reason to respond to her. It was of no value whether he responded or not. But still something about her candid honesty almost compelled him.

“I dream about birds,” he said quickly.

“Birds?” he heard her voice rise in comical disbelief. The regret for answering hit him almost immediately.

“What kind?” she began to mathematically rattle off a list of bird species.

“I dream about gulls,” he gave in with a sigh. “I remember as a kid going to the water and always seeing the gulls.”

She fell silent at that. If he didn’t know any better he’d say she had grown thoughtful over it. It gave him enough time to feel thoughtful himself.

“What do you dream about Cortana?” it was a simple enough question for her to answer. He looked forward to whatever scathing bit of wit she had to come up with as an answer to that.

“I don’t dream,” she started off matter-of-factly. “Although you might could say I’m dreaming all the time. I’m always thinking. Going over the days tasks, your suit mechanics, logging your vitals as you sleep. Sometimes chess moves. I’m thinking of all of it at once. And I can do it over and over again all in seconds. So I guess you could say I dream about you.”

     He managed a chuckle at that. An endearing joke after the mechanical list. On second thought, maybe the logging his vitals as he slept was a joke too.

“Alright Cortana. Now hopefully I am going to sleep. Wake me…when you need me.”

     As his eyes heavily drooped closed he watched as his AI smiled at him, almost sadly, and then faded from her physical form. She was still there he knew, keeping a lookout and dreaming at the same time.


End file.
